Tales Woven

I set myself another wordle challenge when I melded Wordle # 45 and # 46. Can you figure out my challenge in the strangeness of this tale?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

My footsteps left no imprint on the frozen sand. Wind whipped the sea foam above the high-tide mark. The signal fire would provide no warmth, only a small beacon against the blinding night.

Before, back at the inn, I said t’was reckless to off-load this night. Let the Astral hove off towards Grayson’s Spit; the skiffs to wait for calmer seas.

But our leader thought only of the pounds to be made on the cargo: “Gentry’s hungry for spices, nutmeg for their cooks to grind for them fancy pies. Patrons of the coffee houses swig cocoa and talk nonsense. Seen worse seas, night’s only a gentle, King’s Men won’t come out – no freezing ar*es for them” were his prevarications; the evil of his greed.

Rest of the crew, made blustery by the rum, carried the same tune in a basket. They’d seen worse; the cove a fixture, safe as angels. We were off to light the fires and the lanterns, refractive light to signal “all clear,” tide and winds a fore you.

Sure as bulrushes’ exploding in the fall, Pentry put off from the Astral; his pride t’would ne’er allow another crew to make the sea girt first. He’d set his determined jaw, and row like a prisoner escaped from a hulk.

The wind shifted; a drizzle of ice froze to my woolen shawl. “Out the come in lights” I called, so none other would venture but my voice lost to the force of the wind .

Skiff awash, Pentry body disappeared into the maddened waves. “Throw a cord,” I cried – the rest of the crew frozen like my shawl. I prayed as I never had he would catch hold of the rope, even in a stupor from the pounding of the sea.

Then he lay on the sand, in a tremor, half dead, his face a nacreous shade. With the flask of fine brandy retro from our last haul to hand, forced his blanched lips open and poured a fair draught down his throat.

He opened his eyes, and croaked, “Girl, if you’re to give a man fine brandy, then give him more than a sip.”

To make it more challenging, each sentence had to contain at least one wordle word. Makes for hard work and strange stories to be sure.
My great-aunt saw a ghost ship (local sight where she grew up).
I do like having an extra twist: 2 lists, and one week I tied the photo challenge to the wordles. That’s why wordles are so fun, and Yves picks such wondrous words!

I had this sense that a pirate sounding voice was telling me this story . I did enjoy the use of vernacular gave the story a great voice through which to deliver. Great use of the wordles and a clever way of using ‘astral’.

There were certain words that were difficult — like Astral. Glad you liked the vernacular since I made most of it up! Smuggling in 18th century England isn’t one of the historic subjects I’m the most up on!

find what you may

Search for:

tales woven

mindlovemisery’s menagerie

Richard Bach: Messiah’s Handbook: the Lost Book From Illusions

Your friends will know you better in the first minute you
meet than your acquaintances will know you in a
thousand years.
~*~*~*~*~
Everyone comes with a
Design-O-Life Personal Future Construction Kit.
Not everyone remembers where they put it.

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